


Boy

by Megalomaniacal



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Other, Religious Guilt, Self-Harm, like serious trigger warning for sh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:42:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12486168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalomaniacal/pseuds/Megalomaniacal
Summary: He had to pay for his sins.In which Mac uses self harm to punish himself for his sins against God.





	Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this is dark and bad and I'm sorry but I wrote this at like 2am while listening to Hawthorne heights as a way of avoiding my personal thoughts so

It had started when he was fourteen and saw a dick for the first time. He'd been flipping through some porno magazine he'd found in a dumpster and, well, there was a penis. He couldn't stop thinking about it, and for a young, religious Mac, that was a problem. His brain twisted the image into all sorts of weird thoughts and desires and, soon enough, he was waking up with soiled pants after dreaming about other boys.

Mac found himself riddled with guilt. When he walked through the halls it school, it felt as if people somehow could know what he dreamt about, as if he'd be exposed as a sinner. He felt like everyone could see right through him, like they could read his thoughts. It made him start questioning everything- was his shitty life his own fault, the neglect from his parents, was it all karma for being a homo?

He refused to believe he was a homo. That was that, and he managed to push all his thoughts away. He finally managed to push them down so far that they stopped showing up unexpected. At least, he managed to push them down until he met Dennis Reynolds.

Mac dreamt about Dennis, he jerked off thinking about Dennis, he constantly thought about him.

To repent for his sins, he began dragging razors over his skin, cutting into the fat on his thighs- sharp, deep lines, carving crosses into his thighs while whispering prayers under his breath. He begged for forgiveness. He begged to repent for his sins. Some nights he couldn't stop the bleeding. On those nights, he'd stay up until the early morning to keep pressure on them, to keep wiping up blood, crying softly and apologizing to God. Asking why God made him that way.

Charlie sometimes found old razors lying around in Mac's bedroom. He'd asked about them once, and the look on Mac's face was enough to keep him from asking again. Mac was normally very neat- at least as far as his room was concerned- but it had started to become messier, bloody tissues overflowing his small trash can, razors cluttered on his nightstand. It wasn't like his parents would check his room. Even if they did, they wouldn't care. Their only child, slicing his thighs open so deep and so often that they looked like a red, pink, purple, and brown mess of scabs and scars and fresh cuts.

He only wore pants. No one ever caught a glimpse of his biggest secret, the slices on his skin that he used to punish himself for his sins. To punish himself for defying God and lusting after other men.

He'd often stay up late shaking and crying, worked up into a panic just thinking of how he'd be going to hell. He didn't want to go to hell, and he thought that maybe, if he bled enough, God would forgive and accept him.

The first time Charlie saw the cuts themselves, he'd cried for a while and then gotten high on glue with Mac, glue and then weed and then cheap cans of beer, until they were both too high and wasted to remember why they'd gotten to that point in the first place.

The first time Dennis saw the cuts, he'd scoffed to cover his shock and asked Mac what kind of freak would willingly scar themselves like that. He stopped making fun when he realized Mac looked terribly sick and he took another look, realizing just how much Mac was hurting himself. Dennis had spent the night trying to convince Mac that God didn't exist, and, even if he did, he wouldn't want Mac to hurt himself like that. Mac had replied by telling him that God did everything for them, he created them, and the least Mac could do was bleed for his sins.

One time, when Mac was sleeping over at Charlie's, Charlie had woken up to see his sheets covered in blood. Mac was asleep but Charlie was terrified, screaming and shaking him and causing his mom to run in. Bonnie Kelly had created a fuss, crying and trying to cover Mac in bandages. She had insisted on walking Mac home to tell his mom. Mrs. Mac had just blown smoke in her face and grunted.

Luther had walked in on him cutting once. He'd walked up to Mac, snatched the razor out of his hand, walked out of the room and never spoke about it again.

It went from something he forced himself to do to repent to something he couldn't stop. He was hooked, addicted, needed to feel the blade biting into his flesh to stop himself from feeling out of control. The feeling of pain to cover up the guilt. He couldn't stop.

Mac knew deep down that he'd had a terrible childhood, bad parents, and that he'd been severely emotionally neglected. He blamed himself, telling himself that if he wasn't such a fuck up, his parents would love him. He tried to kill himself once, but Charlie and Dennis had found him and stopped him.

Sometimes, even when he was closely approaching forty years old, he wished they hadn't stopped him. Even when he stopped believing in God, even when he came out.

The scars were still there.


End file.
